


The Scientific Method

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So there was this image, from BTS footage, of a version of the scene in Queenscliff where Jack and Phryne sit and drink champagne on the chaise in her bedroom. In the BTS footage, Jack isn’t wearing his jacket, and there’s something about that man in his shirtsleeves that just gets me.</p>
<p>Thanks, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayfulMay/pseuds/PlayfulMay">PlayfulMay</a>, for posting your cheeky version of that image—this idea came directly out of it! For the record, it was supposed to be short. Sorry, not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scientific Method

Jack looked at Phryne where she reclined against the chaise. White dress, white chaise, and pale champagne were contrasted by creamy skin, glossy black hair, and red, red lips. Looking at her, you might think that she was cool and reserved, but her eyes held so much heat that the room’s temperature seemed to soar. He’d removed his jacket earlier in the evening—they were friends, were they not, and it was a very warm night—and he imagined how they would look to an outside eye if he were to stretch himself over her, his dark gray suit and white sleeves a perfect accompaniment to her color scheme.

And if he were so close, he would have no choice but to see the contrast of his skin, with its underlying golden hue against hers with its pale pink alabaster. Would his calloused fingertips catch on the fabric of her gown as he passed them over her breast? Would she shiver at the sensation of his palm stroking her bare arm or the nape of her neck? Would her mouth taste of hot spice the way that he remembered it from the kiss he’d stolen at Café Replique? There really were too many unanswered questions. He would have to answer them, one by one. It was a scientific necessity.

He reached out to take the champagne glass from her hand and turned to set it and his teacup on the small table beside them.

“Jack?” Phryne’s voice was questioning. “Is everything all right?”

“Not quite, Miss Fisher,” he responded, turning back to her. “I have a few questions that need answering.”

“All right, ask away.” She slid a hand down her upper thigh, smoothing the nap of her dress and leaving a streak of shine that contrasted with the ruffled aspect of the fabric beside it. Jack felt himself harden as he watched, the gloss of the fabric in the wake of her palm putting him in mind of the sheen of saliva left behind a licking tongue.

He planted his hands on the chaise, one on the back beside her, one alongside her hip and leaned in, catching her mouth with his. Her taste flooded him, the heat and spice that he remembered mingled with the cool tartness of the champagne she’d drunk. She made a noise as her eyes fluttered shut—he kept his open, the better to see the reaction to his experiment—and he felt her hand catch the shoulder hole of his waistcoat; she pulled him closer, opening her mouth to admit his tongue. Her other hand came up to the back of his neck, her fingers threading into his hair as she angled her head to allow his mouth a better angle against hers. Jack’s eyes fluttered shut as her welcome registered and he sank into the kiss.

Phryne shifted her legs to stretch them out along the chaise and Jack lowered himself over her, fitting himself to her shape. Her breasts pushed against his chest and she wrapped a leg over his hip as if to hold him in place. He lifted the hand on the outside of the chaise to stroke up her arm and over her shoulder, feeling her gasp around his tongue; the shudder that ran through her body vibrated against him and he laid his hand flat against her collarbone, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Someone moaned—it might have been himself—as their mouths continued to explore and Phryne’s hand slid down his side to his waist, urging his hips against her.

Lifting his head, Jack slid his hand at her throat down to cover her breast, watching how the nap in the fabric of her dress flattened and slicked under his fingers just as smoothly as it had under hers. She arched into his cupping hand, her nipple hard beneath the cloth, and Jack dropped his head to lick and suck at her neck as he massaged her pliant flesh. Phryne arched her neck to give him better access to the sensitive underside of her jaw, and his name gusted out of her.

“Ohhhh, god, Jack…” She pulled at his hair to lift his head and cover his mouth with hers as she rolled toward him, pushing him off the edge of the chaise and onto the floor. Jack was aware enough of her intention that he was able to soften their fall, pulling her over himself so that when they were prone, she was nestled atop his chest.

Phryne didn’t let the change of position go to waste. He felt her knees open to plant themselves astride his hips, and she pushed up, her hands sliding to pull her skirt up to the tops of her thighs, leaving her motions unrestricted as she aligned her mons with the hard ridge of his cock.

“I’m not sure what brought this on, Jack,” her voice was breathless as she rocked gently against him, her fingers busily moving to undo his tie and work at the buttons of first his vest and then his shirt, “but I’m happy to participate.”

Jack’s smile was naughty. “Scientific experiment, Miss Fisher,” he rumbled. “Chemistry, I should think.”

“I have always been a supporter of the sciences,” she whispered, smoothing his shirt open to reveal his chest, her palms bumping over the ridges of his abdominal muscles and her fingers opening along his ribcage. The sensation of her palms against his skin was electric, and Jack arched helplessly, pushing himself up between her legs as if he could seat himself inside her through all of the layers between them. She whined her pleasure at this action, pushing her hips back against him and beginning a circular rhythm to grind her clit against his hardness.

When Jack could force his eyes open again, the one hand he had on her breast became two, the slide of his fingers against the nap of her dress making patterns of shadow and light that he took advantage of, drawing spirals and whorls from her belly to her breasts that made Phryne moan. His left hand slid to her side, working to undo the fastenings that ran down the seam beneath her right arm. Finally, the dress gaped open and he slid his hand inside, the silk of her brassiere mimicking the feel of her skin as he cupped her breast again, his thumb pressing against her hardened nipple.

“Jack!” His name was a gasp, its tone rising to a point an octave higher than her usual pitch. Leaving her nipple with a pinch, he caught her dress at the hem and sat up, pulling it up and over her head before tossing it to the side. Her lingerie was ivory and so fine that her nipples were visible through the fabric. Jack wrapped one arm around her, his hand splaying across the naked skin of her back, and brought his mouth to cover that pink peak. Phryne arched, and her thighs shook where they gripped his hips, her fingers again spearing into his hair to hold him to her breast as his tongue dampened the silk and he suckled. Her head dropped to rest atop his, and he could feel the ripples of her orgasm as she clenched and pushed and ground upon him.

As her pleasured mewling subsided, Jack unhooked her brassiere, now fully transparent in its wetness, and slid it down her arms. He devoured her with his eyes, taking in the flushed pale skin and the hardened nipples that were, in their aroused state, considerably darker than the usual color of her unpainted lips.

He felt her breath gusting against his face as she panted, and with a glance up at her, he buried his face in her chest, rubbing his cheeks against her skin, stroking himself against her as if he were a cat; he felt the urge to cover himself in her scent—he could smell the french perfume she’d applied between her breasts along with the mingled fragrances of her sweat and her skin that was uniquely Phryne. He nosed beneath her right breast, feeling the roundness of the lower swell press against his cheekbone and his closed eye. He traced his tongue along the juncture where her flesh went from taut and flat against her ribcage to plump and rounded, and he followed that roundness up to her nipple. He toyed with that nipple, rubbing it with his cheeks and the slight scratchiness of his chin before outlining his lips with its point.

He felt Phryne’s fingers kneading his scalp and heard her soft pleas, but he was enjoying himself too much to rush. Switching sides, he repeated the caresses on her left breast, using her breast to stroke his face from forehead to chin before running her nipple along his closed lips.

Raising his eyes to hers, he slowly opened his mouth and pushed out his tongue without touching her. He stilled, waiting. It only took Phryne a moment to understand; she let out a ragged breath and caught her lower lip between her teeth before lifting her chest and setting her nipple on his tongue. Jack didn’t move except for a tiny spasm when the initial taste of her hit his palate and Phryne breathed in, the movement of her chest sliding her nipple against the warm wetness of his tongue. When he still didn’t move, she did—she rubbed his tongue with her breast, stroking her nipple against the soft inner skin of his lips. She used her hands at the back of his head to move his mouth, which he kept obligingly open and still, despite the urge to curl his tongue around the flesh presented to it. He could feel her hips resuming their motions against his crotch, and his hands dropped to her hips to knead, his fingers gripping her buttocks through the soft silk of her knickers.

After what felt like an eternity, Phryne switched sides, repeating the motions of her breast against his still mouth and tongue as she rocked her sex against his cock. With a whimper, she pushed her nipple higher in his mouth and laid the bottom curve of her breast against his lips.

“Suck me, Jack,” she hissed, her fingers curling into his hair until he could feel the prick of her nails against his scalp.

Her words were all the permission he needed. He moaned as he closed his lips around her breast, his tongue wrapping itself around her nipple. He suckled, the strong draws of his mouth hollowing his cheeks; Phryne’s cries were wordless but pleased, and she arched backward to afford him better access.

As he sucked first one breast and then the other, Jack slid his hands inside the back of her knickers. One hand spread over her buttock and the fingers of the other dipped between her thighs to circle the wet flesh of her vaginal opening. He slid his middle finger inside her as far as it could reach, and Phryne pumped her hips against him, working herself against the impaling digit.

“Harder,” she whimpered, the length of his finger as it wrapped around and inside her not enough to push her over the edge. “Jack, please… please, Jack…”

Jack raised his head and rolled with her once again, pushing down her body, his hands grasping her knickers to pull them down and off. He had a moment to be thankful that she’d removed her stockings earlier, because she lay now, completely nude and splayed before him, her cheeks flushed and her breathing heavy. Her breasts were pink from the friction of his cheeks, her nipples wet from his tongue; the scent of her arousal rose from between her thighs, and the slick gloss of the fluid coating the dark thatch of hair at the tops of her thighs was an invitation that he had no intention of resisting.

Jack cupped her thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes traveled up her body, tracing the line of her arms from where she continued to hold his head and holding her eyes as he lowered his mouth to her sex. He swept the flat of his tongue across her inner thighs, lapping up the moisture there, and Phryne moaned, her hands clenching. He pushed his nose into the crease where her thigh met her torso, breathing in the scent of her, more french perfume—he’d never be able to forget that she anointed herself here—and a sweetness that pulled a groan from him. Her taste when he buried his tongue between her nether lips was just as sweet, and he lapped her up, swirling his tongue around her clit and kneading his fingers into her thighs as he moaned his appreciation.

Phryne writhed as he used his tongue and then his fingers to fuck her, dipping as deep within her body as he could and exploring the textures of her inner walls. He worked her clit with his tongue, licking and sucking it, stiffening his tongue to press at it, and listening all the while to her pleasured noises.

He could feel that she was nearing a peak, and he raised his head, three fingers of one hand pumping into her passage and the thumb of his other hand pulsing in time against her most sensitive point. He looked up her body from his vantage point between her knees, wanting to see her face as she came, in the name of scientific experimentation, of course. He wasn’t disappointed.

With a wail that was much louder than the popping of the champagne cork had been earlier in the evening, Phryne arched, her whole body stiffening as orgasm overtook her. He was struck by how gorgeous she was as the flushing of her skin grew deeper and her mouth opened in a rictus that looked almost like pain as her hips twisted helplessly around the pivot point of his fingers. Her hands in his hair pulled as her muscles contracted, and he grunted his own pleasure at the feeling, pressing his cock hard into the carpet to contain himself.

When Phryne’s breath calmed, Jack withdrew his fingers, slipping them into his mouth to clean them as he knelt up between her thighs. At first, she watched through slitted eyes as he stripped off first his vest and then his braces and shirt; as his hands fell to his trouser fastenings, Phryne pushed herself up on her elbows and watched him. With a smirk, he twisted to pull off his shoes and socks before bringing his hands back to his waistband.

“Family planning, Miss Fisher?”

“It’s been in place since you said you were coming down to join me, Jack,” she purred, a smirk of her own stretching her lips.

He blinked and his smile grew, wide and wicked.

“I’ll admit, I’m grateful for your forward planning,” he replied as he undid his trousers and pushed them down and off. Sinking back down to his knees, Jack fisted his cock where it stood between his thighs, its head weeping with his excitement.

Phryne watched him and he dropped his eyes to view himself. He was respectably long and rather thick, his aroused skin flushed red and the head almost purple with withheld desire. She reached out to push his hand out of the way, wrapping her fingers around his base and giving a strong upward stroke, finishing with a rub across his cockhead before pushing down again. Jack groaned, his head falling backward on his neck as he focused on the sensation of her hand; she repeated the caress twice more, and he simply enjoyed, feeling his testicles tighten and his cock grow impossibly harder. When he felt the warm wetness of her mouth cover him, though, he could not contain a shout of surprise. He opened his eyes, his hands rising without conscious thought from where they’d been resting on his thighs to tangle in her hair.

She was beautiful, he thought, watching her mouth stretch to take him in, her pink tongue sweeping his length, and her hand at his base giving him gently pulsing squeezes. He cupped her skull, his fingers sifting through her hair, and let himself fall into the warm, wet feel of her mouth with its swirling tongue and the occasional light scrape of teeth until he felt his orgasm building.

“Enough of that for now,” he said softly, tugging her softly away and pulling her up to cover her mouth with his. Phryne pressed herself to him, her breasts plumping against his chest and one arm wrapping around his shoulders as their kiss became carnal. Phryne’s other hand moved down his chest to catch his cock in her hand, and Jack cupped her thighs again, lifting her  to position her over his erection. Phryne notched his cockhead inside her body and they both moaned as she sank down onto him.

“Phryne,” Jack breathed, his arms coming up behind her to cup the back of her head. She set her feet on the ground beside his hips, both of her arms now wrapped around his shoulders, and she began to move.

Phryne leaned back against Jack’s bracing arms, her hips rising and falling against him, her breasts bouncing with the effort, and Jack leaned to nip at one rosy nipple. She shuddered, his name a squeal, and her hips stuttered. Jack lowered her to the floor again, his knees between hers. He looped one arm under her leg, pushing her thigh outward to open her up to his thrusts, and pressed his other hand flat on the floor beside her head.

With a growl of effort, he began to thrust; with his first push, her shoulder hit his wrist, and she wrapped her hand around his bicep, bracing herself to receive him. Her other hand moved down to cup beneath her knee to keep her body open wide, and she planted her opposite foot against the floor, her knee rising up beside his hip.

“Ha-ar-der, Jack,” each plunge of his hips causing her voice to break.

He obliged, his head drooping on his neck as he watched her breasts bounce with each lunge of his hips; when his eyes traced down her body, he saw himself, slick with her moisture, as he dipped in and out of her body. The wet smack of flesh meeting flesh filled the room along with the scent of their sweat and secretions. Her panting breaths and mewling cries echoed in his ears as he worked her body, switching the position of his knees with every few strokes to vary the angle at which his cock swept her inner walls. With Phryne holding her knee up, his hand was free to stroke up her thigh and press his thumb over her clit; she arched into him, bringing her breast into reach of his mouth. He swept out his tongue to lick her tempting nipple, and she came again with a cry that sounded like his name, stretched into incomprehensibility.

Jack continued to thrust as her body clenched around his cock, but the strong pulses of her inner muscles were more than he could withstand. He called her name as he came, his hips stuttering into hers, his sweat-soaked head coming to rest between her breasts as his thrusting slowed and stopped, his cock still buried within her body.

Phryne stroked her hands up his back to wrap around his shoulders, holding him close as they waited for their breathing to slow. Eventually, Jack lifted his head to look at her; when he met her gaze, he echoed her smile and dipped his head to kiss her again.

“So how is your chemistry experiment progressing, inspector?” Phryne’s voice was low; she scattered her words between kisses as she lifted her ankles to hook them around his waist, keeping him in place.

Jack chuckled, feeling the movement of his belly against hers as a warm friction that sent zinging pulses down to his cock, which was only slightly softer than it had been before he’d come; he groaned at the sensation and felt her answering moan.

“Perhaps it was more of an experiment in action and reaction?”

“An object in motion, perhaps?”

“Mmm,” he agreed. “I’m told that without an application of force, those tend to stay in motion.” He dropped another soft kiss against her lips as he felt himself hardening within her. Their banter always aroused him beyond what seemed reasonable, and now was no exception. He began a soft, stroking motion with his hips, urged on by her heels pressing into the globes of his ass.

“Ungh, that seems like something that would require further study, Jaaa-aack!” He repeated the swivel-thrust that had elicited that squealing version of his name, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders.

“I think that sounds like a marvelous idea, Miss Fisher.”

“It is important for experimental results to be repeatable, is it not?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said as he repeated the motion again, causing her to gasp out his name.

“Perhaps we should consider a change in venue, see if that has any effect on the outcome?” Her lips clung to his as her hands caressed his shoulders and arms.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there is a bed, just there,” she cast her eyes upward and Jack looked up, never ceasing the motion of his hips.

“So there is,” he said. “Are you proposing that we adjourn there?”

“If we did,” she replied, “there are additional hypothesis-proving variations we could attempt.” Her mouth was on his throat, her teeth closing gently over the tendon that stretched beneath his ear.

Jack’s eyes fluttered closed, and his stomach muscles jerked, pulling his hips hard into hers. When she released him, he kissed her, his mouth demanding. Lifting his head, he planted his knees.

“Hold on then,” he growled, and she locked her ankles more tightly behind him and her arms around his shoulders as he levered up till he was standing with her wrapped around him like a monkey. She laughed, a purely joyous sound; grinning, he gripped her ass to hold her in place as he strode to the wide, soft bed.

He released one cheek to reach out and tug the bedclothes back so that he could lay her against the pillows, setting a knee to the mattress to climb up and lie atop her without disengaging their bodies.

“Now then, Miss Fisher,” he said against lips still stretched in a smile, “why don’t you show me _your_ scientific method?”

“With pleasure, inspector,” she replied, and raising her mouth to his, she proceeded to do just that.


End file.
